Philadelphia in Slavery Days

THE number of persons who have vivid recollections of the months of uncertainty and agitation in this city just preceding the War of Secession has already become comparatively small, and every day sees it further decrease. It was forty-three years ago, on the 2d of this month, that Captain John Brown, the rugged old protagonist, of Kansas border war fame, was hanged at Charlestown, Va., for the insurrectionary raid at Harper's Ferry, by which he sought to Inaugurate a servile war that would win from the Southern States the freedom of the slaves. One year later, after the election of Lincoln to the Presidency, the passage of ordinances of secession by Southern constituent conventions and legislatures had begun, Five months after that South Caro- [Photograph with caption: "ISAAC H. CLOTHIER, As He Looked When He Managed an Anti-Slavery Lecture Course."]
lina made the first aggression upon the National Government in Charleston harbor, and the gallant little garrison of Fort Sumter surrendered.
The John Brown raid, the election of Lincoln, the commencement of secession and the actual levying of war by a few State-communities against the whole people were the sharply defined acts of a swiftly moving drama, that was really, however, only the prelude to a great tragedy. Each act, with all its tumultuous and deeply felt emotions, marked some progress in the evolution of public sentiment, either as provoked by it or provoking it.
THE "UNDERGROUND RAILROAD."
Philadelphia, both by moral and geographical analogy, represented very fairly in those days the average of the nation's thought. It was in more sympathetic touch with the South than the sister great cities to the northward and westward. Yet here the rational aversion to slavery had already had the profoundest root. [Drawing with caption: "J. MILLER McKIM, One of the Most Efficient Managers of the 'Underground Railroad.'"]
Practical efforts in the direction of emancipation had distinguished it, more than intemperate propagandism. It was the greatest depot of the intangible "Underground Railroad" between bondage and freedom.
The workings of this wonderful but silent league of the friends of human rights have furnished food for many volumes. Nearly all the more remarkable incidents in its history took place in Eastern Pennsylvania. Throughout the decade following the enactment of the Fugitive Slave law, in 1850, its passengers were constantly going through the City of Brotherly Love, or were in hiding here, awaiting the departure of a safe and convenient "train." No one has yet set down just how many white families in Philadelphia were concerned in the underground traffic. The whole truth will doubtless never appear, except in the balancing of the eternal books of fate. But in no other community in the United States, perhaps, was the slavery question so well understood, with so little gloss of false sentiment or fanatical prejudice, as here.
All through the ante-bellum decade Southern search-officers and professional negro-hunters were to be seen in Philadelphia. The abounding pathos of the struggles toward freedom was quite often relieved by the ludicrous. As the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church, so the bloody capture of fugitive slaves at Christiana, in Lancaster county, in 1851, gave the greatest stimulus to the development of the "Underground Railroad." As the slaveholders ostentatiously viewed their slaves as chattels, so, too, there was a palpable irony in shipping some of them to the North in closely bound packages, like so much merchandise. Several negroes thus escaped from slavery were taken from their portable prisons in this city and expedited by various means and ways to Canada. It became a custom for them to assume, as an additional surname, the word "Box" in memory of their experience. One of the most famous escapes of this kind was that of Henry "Box" Brown, who arrived in Philadelphia from Richmond in a wooden case 2 feet 8 inches deep, 2 feet wide and 3 feet long. It was necessary that it should be of such small dimensions in order that no suspicion of its contents might be awakened. It was lined with baize, and was provisioned only with a beef-bladder filled with water and a few small biscuits. The slave was provided with a large gimlet, with which to make openings through the wood for the admission of air. The box was marked with a Philadelphia address and the cautions, "This side up, with care;" but Henry "Box" Brown traveled a good part of the way on his head. Doubled up as he was, with little breathing space and insufficient food, the chances were somewhat against his arriving alive or undetected at his journey's end. But, when the box was opened at the Anti-Slavery Society's headquarters, in the presence of J. Miller McKim and others, he emerged from it entirely self-possessed, though devoutly joyful, and greeted them with the words: "How do you do, gentlemen?"
LEGAL CONTESTS FOR FREEDOM.
The efforts of slaveholders to recover runaway negroes who had been found in this city, and counter efforts to save them, were the cause of many exciting scenes. Passmore Williamson was one of those who distinguished themselves by bold and timely friendship for the oppressed. He publicly encouraged a woman, with her two children, to leave her master, Colonel John H. Wheeler, of North Carolina, United States Minister to Nicaragua, who had brought them into this State, thereby subjecting them to a law which made them free. Williamson was held a prisoner for many months because he would not or could not satisfy a writ of habeas corpus Issued by a Federal Judge in behalf of Colonel Wheeler. This martyrdom helped the anti-slavery cause very greatly.
The old Court House in Independence Square, on the Fifth street side, witnessed many exciting scenes in connection with proceedings for the recovery of runaway slaves. In one case, when a negro had been delivered into the hands of an officer to be returned to the South, and had been brought to a waiting carriage, he had no sooner stepped into it on one side than he sprang out on the other into the arms of a rescuing throng, and was borne away to Fort Washington, where Edward M. Davis and others of the Anti-Slavery Society guarded him all night with guns in their hands. In April, 1859, Daniel Dangerfield, a negro, was before United States Commissioner Longstreth, who had adjourned the hearing from his own office, on Seventh street below Chestnut, to the Court House, at Independence Square, because of the great crush of spectators. Three hundred policemen were there to keep order. George H. Earle, Sr., William S. Pierce and Edward H. Hopper were counsel for the alleged slave, and Benjamin H. Brewster for the claimant. Doubt as to the identity of the prisoner caused his discharge on the second day. There was mild jubilation among the spectators, many of whom were negroes, and Dangerfield, in a carriage from which the horses had been detached, was dragged in triumph along Fifth, Lombard and Eleventh streets.
ALL NIGHT VIGIL.
Lucretia Mott, the renowned preacher and agitator, was almost always in court to sustain the oppressed, whenever their cause was on trial. She was not loath to address the Judge with arguments and persuasions, in favor of justice and humanity, and often this Infringement of judicial privilege was tolerated. She would sit beside the poor slave mothers and their children and cheer them, while their fate hung in the balance, with those soft, concentrated words of power that she always commanded. On one occasion, she and the other friends of the prisoner remained in the old court room on Fifth street all night, awaiting the decision. Slowly the gray dawn spread over the dull, melancholy picture. It was sweet to see amid the shadows the saintly face of Lucretia Mott, in its serene and spiritual beauty, dominating all about her with the calm of courageous faith. But when at last the first rays of the sun flashed in through the eastern windows, across Library street, she lifted her voice in fervent ejaculation:
"Oh, that God's sunlight should ever shine upon such a scene as this!"
The decision came soon afterward. It was in favor of freedom.
The last slave that ran away to Philadelphia and was caught had belonged to a man named Lemon. The negro was released, and the pro-slavery people started a subscription to indemnify the former owner for his loss. There was much lampoonery over this, and many changes were rung up on the word "lemonade."
There were times when broken heads and bloody noses were plentiful in the vicinity of the old Court House. On March 27, 1860, Moses Hornor, who had been captured while at work in a field near Harrisburg, was claimed by a Virginian. On the second day of the hearing of the case he was remanded to the custody of a United States Marshal to be returned to the South. A writ of habeas corpus, issued by a State Judge, Allison, was disregarded. There was a tremendous crowd in Fifth Street, mostly composed of negroes. A rush was made to rescue the prisoner, and the horses drawing the carriage in which he was were twice pushed over upon the sidewalk, and the pole was broken. There was the wildest confusion, and the excitement was beyond description. The police charged the mob again and again, and finally drove it off, arresting ten of those composing it.
GENERAL MULHOLLAND'S RECOLLECTIONS.
Philadelphia is historically connected with the John Brown raid. The plot was known to an active anti-slavery worker here many months before it was near execution. Francis J. Merriam, one of John Brown's lieutenants at Harper's Ferry, sought refuge in Philadelphia after the raid, but was sent on to Canada. Another fugitive, Osborne Anderson, for whose arrest a large reward was offered by the Governor of Virginia, followed him. The wife of John Brown, on her way from North Elba, N. Y., his old home, to visit him in jail, remained in Philadelphia a week. It was desired that an escort of two gentlemen should be procured for her. It was difficult to find any one who would undertake the mission, which was regarded not only as unpopular, but as extremely dangerous, in view or the vengeful state of public feeling in Virginia. An appeal was made to Hector Tyndale, who afterward became in the Civil War a brevet major general of volunteers. He and J. Miller McKim and the latter's wife accompanied Mrs. Brown.
Tyndale, whose character was of the genuine heroic mold, was not, like McKim, especially identified with the anti-slavery cause. General St. Clair A. Mulholland, who, with many others, treasures his memory with the utmost reverence, thus spoke of this chivalrous act a short time ago:
"It subjected Tyndale for the time to a good deal of opposition in Philadelphia. Some of those who had called themselves his friends refused to speak to him on his return, and for years afterward. He was a young man, with his whole future before him. It was innate nobility and courage which made him accept that charge. Mrs. Brown had obtained an order from Governor Wise for the delivery of John Brown's body to her after the execution. But threats had been made to subject his body to great indignity and to substitute another for it in the coffin. Hector Tyndale was determined that the body should be identified before it was accepted by the widow. He insisted upon this, in the face of the most awful threats of a Virginia mob, and stood firm and unyielding upon his right as the representative of Mrs. Brown. This attitude won the admiration even of some of the fire-eaters, and one of them at last whispered in his ear that there were men there who would stand by him. He gained his point, the coffin was opened in his presence at Harper's Ferry, and he made sure that it was John Brown's body which he brought to Philadelphia.
"The public meeting that was held in National Hall by the Abolitionists at noon on the day when John Brown was hanged,"
[Drawing with caption: "THE ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY IN A DRY GOODS CASE OF HENRY 'BOX' BROWN."]
continued General Mulholland, "was a stormy one. James Mott, Lucretia Mott's husband, called it to order. Rev. Dr. Furness, father of Horace Howard Furness, made the prayer. During the proceedings hisses and applause alternated. There were cheers for Governor Wise, for Virginia and the United States, and groans for John Brown, Lucretia Mott, Mary Grew, Robert Purvis and Theodore Tilton made the addresses. When it was thought that John Brown was already hanging on the gallows at Charlestown. Theodore Tilton paused in his speech and said with awful solemnity:
"'It is the hour at which the gate of Heaven has been opened and a new spirit has entered in.'
"Under guard of the police many colored people held a 'sympathy prayer meeting'
[Photograph with caption: "GENERAL HECTOR TYNDALE. Who Escorted John Brown's Body to Philadelphia."]
that night in Shiloh Church, On Clifton street, below South.
"When John Brown's body arrived at the old railway station at Prime and Broad streets, Mayor Henry would not allow it to remain in the city, for fear that conflicting popular feeling would cause bloodshed. A great crowd was around the station. A reception committee of negroes stood in front of it, dressed in deepest mourning. Mrs. John Brown, accompanied by Hector Tyndale, after leaving the railway train walked quietly and unnoticed through the crowd, got into an Eleventh street car and went to a house of a friend. The Mayor made sure, by a trick, that the mob would not subject John Brown's body to outrage. A common box, used to hold hoisting blocks and tackling, was covered with a deer's skin and hoisted upon the shoulders of six policemen, who carried it out of the station and carefully put it into the a wagon, which the crowd followed as it was driven away. Then the plain pine coffin, which contained all that was left of John Brown, of Ossawatomie, was placed with a bundle of the pikes with which he had armed some of his men, at Harper's Ferry, upon another vehicle, and taken to the Walnut street wharf. J. Miller McKim went on with it to New York.
"Public feeling on the 'impending crisis' was about equally divided in Philadelphia until the threats of secession on the part of some of the Southern States had begun to be fulfilled. Lincoln was warmly received on his way to his inauguration. But the firing upon Sumter was needed to awaken the people thoroughly. Then the complete revulsion came. The test of loyalty was exacted by a mob, it is true, but a mob that represented in the last analysis true respectability and patriotism. Everybody of any account had to hand out his colors. The house of William B. Read and a newspaper office were attacked. Great union meetings were held, and the air was full of military preparation. When, however, General Louis Wagner organized the first negro regiment and wanted to parade it to show what a fine appearance it would make, the Mayor forbade him to march through Chestnut street, and he took it around by an obscure route, and across the Market street bridge to West Philadelphia."
MR. CLOTHIER'S REMINISCENCES.
The most exciting episode of all this ante-bellum period was unquestionably the effort on the part of a pro-slavery mob to break up a meeting at which George William Curtis delivered his powerful address on the burning question of the hour. The person most active in bringing Mr. Curtis to Philadelphia on this occasion was Isaac H. Clothier, now one of the most prominent merchants of the country, distinguished for his public spirit and philanthropy, but then a young man who had scarcely reached his majority.
Mr. Clothier was recently induced by the writer, after some persuasion, to tell the story of this remarkable episode in his own way, which is modesty itself. But as he talked Mr. Clothier grew warm with the generous enthusiasm of more than forty years ago, and the mere words themselves convey only a partial idea of the interest which he enkindled in his listener in the course of the narrative. He was seated at the time in his study a Ballytore, his beautiful chateau-residence at Wynnewood.
"I was deeply interested in the important questions of that time," said Mr. Clothier. "I had always a particular fondness for oratory. The great speakers then were on the side of the anti-slavery movement, and chief among them were Wendell Phillips and George William Curtis. In my thirst for listening to the discussion of great questions I used to attend lectures and meetings of all kinds. A young friend of mine and myself finally concluded that we would have a lecture course of our own in Philadelphia. It was the most direct way of gratifying our desire to hear the great anti-slavery speakers. This was in the summer of 1859, and we planned to have the course the next winter. A committee was formed, of which I was Chairman. The executive business of the enterprise was nearly all in my hands. You can imagine with what vim I, as an enthusiastic young man, entered into the campaign. I wrote to Henry Ward Beecher, Wendell Phillips, George William Curtis and others. I took journeys to see some of them. Mr. Curtis I visited at his residence on Staten Island, and Mr. Beecher at Peekskill. We found that George William Curtis and Wendell Phillips were the only speakers, among those whom we wanted, that we could engage. Our arrangements were made in August; one lecture was to be delivered by Wendell Phillips in November, and one by George William Curtis in December. There was then no particular anti-slavery excitement in this city, and we had no especial object in view in connection with that movement. But between that and the date of the first lecture John Brown's raid at Harper's Ferry took place. That was in October. Instantly the whole country was aflame. The lecture of Mr. Phillips was appointed for the 28th of November in National Hall, on Market street, between Twelfth and Thirteenth streets, on the south side. His subject was Toussaint L’Ouverture. We had no reason to anticipate any particular disorder untill a little before the time for the lecture. A notorious Alderman, McMullin by name, came to the hall with a crowd of roughs prepared to break up the meeting by force. But Mr. Phillips's wonderful eloquence overcame them. They were charmed with it, and sat as if spellbound until the end. Not a hostile word or sound did they utter, and the affair was most successful.
MOB VIOLENCE THREATENED.
"The next occasion, however, was very different. The date of George William Curtis's address was two weeks and a half later, the 15th of December, 1859, or a little less than forty-three years ago. John Brown had been hanged on the 2d of December, and the Abolitionists had held what I have always thought was a most unwise meeting at National Hall, at noon of that day. It was a very lively meeting, and came near being broken up. Our lecture by George William Curtis was on 'The Present Aspect of the Slavery Question.' It was powerful, but there was nothing fiery about it; and the subject and date, you must remember, had been fixed in the previous August. When the time arrived the whole city was in a turmoil. We tried to get two men of some prominence to introduce Mr. Curtis to the audience, but they refused. Judge William D. Kelley ('Pig Iron' Kelley), however, accepted the proposal with alacrity. He was perfectly fearless, and he enjoyed doing things that were a brave vindication of principle.
"That day, the 15th of December, was one of the most exciting I have ever seen. Alexander Henry was Mayor of the city. It was evident that there was going to be a riot. That morning a number of people came to see me, as the only person accessible to them who had the right to put the meeting off. I went to the Mayor. He said that it was his duty to maintain free speech, but that it was a very dangerous time. He thought that lives might be saved by putting the meeting off. But I felt that we had no right to do that. It would be pandering to the passions of the mob and a denial of free speech. Of course, in all this I had the advice of older persons, who confirmed me in my views. Mayor Henry made a personal appeal to me for a postponement. Prominent citizens were urgent in the same sense. Eli K. Price, W. Heyward Drayton and others were there. A committee came and asked whether something could not be done to avert the danger. They were afraid that blood would be shed. They besought the Mayor to stop the meeting. He said that he could not do that; but he would protect us. I went from him to the house of Rev. Dr. William H. Furness, on Pine street, where, in the meantime, Mr. Curtis had arrived. He had not heard anything as yet of the impending trouble. I told him that there was great danger. While I was talking a gentleman rang the door bell. He was a very estimable citizen. He said that he had just come from the office of the Mayor, to whom he had made a personal appeal to prevent the meeting, for fear that there would be bloodshed; and now he had come to make another personal appeal, with the same object, to Mr. Curtis. Mr. Curtis asked me what I had to say in the matter, as I represented those who had wished him to come here to lecture, and to whom he was responsible. I told him that I certainly did not want him to go to that hall, without knowing what he was doing. While I regretted that we were confronted with this danger, I saw no way out of it except to face it without shrinking. Dr. Furness said: 'If it costs the lives of all of us we ought to go on.' Mr. Curtis acquiesced, and so it was decided.
600 POLICE ON GUARD.
"Quite a party of us left Dr. Furness's house together a little before the time for the lecture. We walked from Pine street up Thirteenth, and went into National Hall from the little street in the rear. There was a terrible noise in Market street and a great crowd. Mayor Henry had 600 armed policemen posted in front of the hall and within it. A passageway was kept clear for people who wished to enter. They came in great numbers. It was surprising, the pluck they displayed. Nowadays I would be afraid to go to such a meeting. After entering by the back way we sat for a while in a little room behind the platform. Chief of Police Ruggles was there, and he took me downstairs and showed me the array of police. It looked to me more like war than anything I had yet seen. Every policeman had a loaded revolver. I felt the greatest confidence in the outcome. I felt that free speech would be vindicated. Pretty soon we marched in upon the platform. The sight was something I can never forget. The Mayor had ordered that the Anti-Slavery Fair, which was being held in Concert Hall, on Chestnut street, should be closed for the evening, in order that all the available police not already on guard could be kept in readiness for service at National Hall, if needed. This order also swelled our audience. Among the noted persons present were James and Lucretia Mott, Mary Grew, Charles Wise, Henry C. Davis, Rev. William H. Furness. D. D., and Mrs. Furness, Robert Purvis, Dr. John D. Griscom and Mrs. Griscom, Clement M. Biddle, Edward M. Davis, Caleb Clothier, Daniel Neall, Warner Justice and his wife, Theodore Justice, Abby Kimber, Sarah Pugh, William Still, James Miller McKim and George A. Coffey, District Attorney.
"George William Curtis had walked to the hall, with Mrs. William H. Furness leaning on his arm. A self-constituted bodyguard of young men kept close to him all the way and throughout the meeting. Many have since become prominent in public affairs. Those whom I remember were General William J. Palmer, since President of the Denver and Rio Grande Railway Company; Clement A. Griscom, James C. Parrish, William W. Justice, Edmund Lewis, Frank L. Neall, Henry C. Davis and the Steel brothers, Edward T., William and Henry M.
"Other persons than the police were prepared to give an account of themselves if free speech had been seriously retarded or the lives of law abiding citizens had been assailed. Mr. Coffey, the District Attorney, sat on the platform with a loaded revolver in his pocket. I remember his saying on that day: 'There will be hundreds of armed men in the streets to-night, ready to back the posse comitatus on behalf of free speech.' Judge Kelley had a billy, or small cudgel, up his sleeve. It is now in my possession.
A MOST EXCITING HOUR.
"In introducing Mr. Curtis, Judge Kelley gave his listeners to understand that free speech would be vindicated, and that the Orator of the evening would be protected. He further said (the words are securely graven in my memory):
'It is my privilege to introduce to you my friend, George William Curtis, who is here this evening in pursuance of an engagement made more than three months ago, to present to you his views--the views of an accomplished scholar, a polished gentleman and, withal, a great hearted lover of his race and kind--upon the subject which God is pressing closer and closer upon us every day of our lives--the great question of slavery.'
"Mr. Curtis did not speak as long as he would have done, perhaps, if disorder had not been so rampant. His lecture lasted a little less than an hour. It was an hour of menace, noise and confusion. The building would have been torn inside out and burned to the ground if it had not been for the police. The mob on Market street made several charges upon the entrance, but the police charged them in turn and kept them out. Brickbats were thrown through the side windows of the hall. A bottle of vitriol was also thrown, and the sight of one person was destroyed by its contents. The mob had its delegates in the auditorium, too. Two or three attempts were made to stop the lecture. Rough looking men jumped upon the benches and gave cheers for the Union, to drown the voice of the lecturer. The police rushed at them, seized them and carried them out through a doorway under the platform. Robert E. Randall, brother of Samuel J. Randall who became Speaker of the National House of
[Drawing with caption: "PASSMORE WILLIAMSON, Who Helped Many Slaves to Freedom."]
Representatives, was one of the ring leaders, and was arrested.
RIOTERS AS HOSTAGES.
"Underneath the hall was a wholesale flour store, into which freight cars were run for the purpose of unloading. The prisoners were taken down into this store and were locked up in an empty freight ear Their confederates in the auditorium and in the street were then informed that if the building was fired the prisoners would be sure to be burned to death. To show how tense was the suspense of those on the platform while the lecture was in progress I will recall a little incident. My associate in the management of the course of lectures, William J, Palmer, did not know Mr. Henry by sight. At one stage of the tumult, the Mayor appeared suddenly beside Mr. Curtis, as he stood near the edge of the platform, and made an appeal to the audience for order. Mr. Palmer leaned over to me and asked: 'Who is that man?' He afterwards told me that, supposing at first that Mayor Henry was an accomplice of the mob, he came very near seizing him from behind and pushing him off the platform.
"In spite of the menacing interruptions the lecture was delivered, and was heard, and free speech was vindicated."
Almost one year afterwards to a day, George William Curtis was again invited [Drawing and caption: "LUCRETIA MOTT. One of the Most Remarkable Anti-Slavery Orators."] to speak in Philadelphia. But Lincoln had meanwhile been elected President, the secession agitation in the South had reached its highest pitch, and the anti-slavery advocates in the North were held by many thousands to be directly responsible for the great troubles which threatened the nation. The condition of public sentiment in Philadelphia was more dangerous even than it had been immediately after the execution of John Brown. The Mayor was strongly opposed to the delivery of the lecture, and Mr. Andrews, the lessee of Concert Hall, refused to allow its use for that purpose.
In connection with the above reminiscences and as an instance of the whirligig of time, it may be interesting to observe that during the past week the Hon. Grover Cleveland, twice elected President by the Democratic party, presided at a meeting in Philadelphia held in behalf of an African industrial school, and was presented to the audience by the author of these reminiscences, Mr. Isaac H. Clothier.

Click tabs to swap between content that is broken into logical sections.

THE number of persons who have vivid recollections of the months of uncertainty and agitation in this city just preceding the War of Secession has already become comparatively small, and every day sees it further decrease. It was forty-three years ago, on the 2d of this month, that Captain John Brown, the rugged old protagonist, of Kansas border war fame, was hanged at Charlestown, Va., for the insurrectionary raid at Harper's Ferry, by which he sought to Inaugurate a servile war that would win from the Southern States the freedom of the slaves. One year later, after the election of Lincoln to the Presidency, the passage of ordinances of secession by Southern constituent conventions and legislatures had begun, Five months after that South Caro- [Photograph with caption: "ISAAC H. CLOTHIER, As He Looked When He Managed an Anti-Slavery Lecture Course."]
lina made the first aggression upon the National Government in Charleston harbor, and the gallant little garrison of Fort Sumter surrendered.
The John Brown raid, the election of Lincoln, the commencement of secession and the actual levying of war by a few State-communities against the whole people were the sharply defined acts of a swiftly moving drama, that was really, however, only the prelude to a great tragedy. Each act, with all its tumultuous and deeply felt emotions, marked some progress in the evolution of public sentiment, either as provoked by it or provoking it.
THE "UNDERGROUND RAILROAD."
Philadelphia, both by moral and geographical analogy, represented very fairly in those days the average of the nation's thought. It was in more sympathetic touch with the South than the sister great cities to the northward and westward. Yet here the rational aversion to slavery had already had the profoundest root. [Drawing with caption: "J. MILLER McKIM, One of the Most Efficient Managers of the 'Underground Railroad.'"]
Practical efforts in the direction of emancipation had distinguished it, more than intemperate propagandism. It was the greatest depot of the intangible "Underground Railroad" between bondage and freedom.
The workings of this wonderful but silent league of the friends of human rights have furnished food for many volumes. Nearly all the more remarkable incidents in its history took place in Eastern Pennsylvania. Throughout the decade following the enactment of the Fugitive Slave law, in 1850, its passengers were constantly going through the City of Brotherly Love, or were in hiding here, awaiting the departure of a safe and convenient "train." No one has yet set down just how many white families in Philadelphia were concerned in the underground traffic. The whole truth will doubtless never appear, except in the balancing of the eternal books of fate. But in no other community in the United States, perhaps, was the slavery question so well understood, with so little gloss of false sentiment or fanatical prejudice, as here.
All through the ante-bellum decade Southern search-officers and professional negro-hunters were to be seen in Philadelphia. The abounding pathos of the struggles toward freedom was quite often relieved by the ludicrous. As the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church, so the bloody capture of fugitive slaves at Christiana, in Lancaster county, in 1851, gave the greatest stimulus to the development of the "Underground Railroad." As the slaveholders ostentatiously viewed their slaves as chattels, so, too, there was a palpable irony in shipping some of them to the North in closely bound packages, like so much merchandise. Several negroes thus escaped from slavery were taken from their portable prisons in this city and expedited by various means and ways to Canada. It became a custom for them to assume, as an additional surname, the word "Box" in memory of their experience. One of the most famous escapes of this kind was that of Henry "Box" Brown, who arrived in Philadelphia from Richmond in a wooden case 2 feet 8 inches deep, 2 feet wide and 3 feet long. It was necessary that it should be of such small dimensions in order that no suspicion of its contents might be awakened. It was lined with baize, and was provisioned only with a beef-bladder filled with water and a few small biscuits. The slave was provided with a large gimlet, with which to make openings through the wood for the admission of air. The box was marked with a Philadelphia address and the cautions, "This side up, with care;" but Henry "Box" Brown traveled a good part of the way on his head. Doubled up as he was, with little breathing space and insufficient food, the chances were somewhat against his arriving alive or undetected at his journey's end. But, when the box was opened at the Anti-Slavery Society's headquarters, in the presence of J. Miller McKim and others, he emerged from it entirely self-possessed, though devoutly joyful, and greeted them with the words: "How do you do, gentlemen?"
LEGAL CONTESTS FOR FREEDOM.
The efforts of slaveholders to recover runaway negroes who had been found in this city, and counter efforts to save them, were the cause of many exciting scenes. Passmore Williamson was one of those who distinguished themselves by bold and timely friendship for the oppressed. He publicly encouraged a woman, with her two children, to leave her master, Colonel John H. Wheeler, of North Carolina, United States Minister to Nicaragua, who had brought them into this State, thereby subjecting them to a law which made them free. Williamson was held a prisoner for many months because he would not or could not satisfy a writ of habeas corpus Issued by a Federal Judge in behalf of Colonel Wheeler. This martyrdom helped the anti-slavery cause very greatly.
The old Court House in Independence Square, on the Fifth street side, witnessed many exciting scenes in connection with proceedings for the recovery of runaway slaves. In one case, when a negro had been delivered into the hands of an officer to be returned to the South, and had been brought to a waiting carriage, he had no sooner stepped into it on one side than he sprang out on the other into the arms of a rescuing throng, and was borne away to Fort Washington, where Edward M. Davis and others of the Anti-Slavery Society guarded him all night with guns in their hands. In April, 1859, Daniel Dangerfield, a negro, was before United States Commissioner Longstreth, who had adjourned the hearing from his own office, on Seventh street below Chestnut, to the Court House, at Independence Square, because of the great crush of spectators. Three hundred policemen were there to keep order. George H. Earle, Sr., William S. Pierce and Edward H. Hopper were counsel for the alleged slave, and Benjamin H. Brewster for the claimant. Doubt as to the identity of the prisoner caused his discharge on the second day. There was mild jubilation among the spectators, many of whom were negroes, and Dangerfield, in a carriage from which the horses had been detached, was dragged in triumph along Fifth, Lombard and Eleventh streets.
ALL NIGHT VIGIL.
Lucretia Mott, the renowned preacher and agitator, was almost always in court to sustain the oppressed, whenever their cause was on trial. She was not loath to address the Judge with arguments and persuasions, in favor of justice and humanity, and often this Infringement of judicial privilege was tolerated. She would sit beside the poor slave mothers and their children and cheer them, while their fate hung in the balance, with those soft, concentrated words of power that she always commanded. On one occasion, she and the other friends of the prisoner remained in the old court room on Fifth street all night, awaiting the decision. Slowly the gray dawn spread over the dull, melancholy picture. It was sweet to see amid the shadows the saintly face of Lucretia Mott, in its serene and spiritual beauty, dominating all about her with the calm of courageous faith. But when at last the first rays of the sun flashed in through the eastern windows, across Library street, she lifted her voice in fervent ejaculation:
"Oh, that God's sunlight should ever shine upon such a scene as this!"
The decision came soon afterward. It was in favor of freedom.
The last slave that ran away to Philadelphia and was caught had belonged to a man named Lemon. The negro was released, and the pro-slavery people started a subscription to indemnify the former owner for his loss. There was much lampoonery over this, and many changes were rung up on the word "lemonade."
There were times when broken heads and bloody noses were plentiful in the vicinity of the old Court House. On March 27, 1860, Moses Hornor, who had been captured while at work in a field near Harrisburg, was claimed by a Virginian. On the second day of the hearing of the case he was remanded to the custody of a United States Marshal to be returned to the South. A writ of habeas corpus, issued by a State Judge, Allison, was disregarded. There was a tremendous crowd in Fifth Street, mostly composed of negroes. A rush was made to rescue the prisoner, and the horses drawing the carriage in which he was were twice pushed over upon the sidewalk, and the pole was broken. There was the wildest confusion, and the excitement was beyond description. The police charged the mob again and again, and finally drove it off, arresting ten of those composing it.
GENERAL MULHOLLAND'S RECOLLECTIONS.
Philadelphia is historically connected with the John Brown raid. The plot was known to an active anti-slavery worker here many months before it was near execution. Francis J. Merriam, one of John Brown's lieutenants at Harper's Ferry, sought refuge in Philadelphia after the raid, but was sent on to Canada. Another fugitive, Osborne Anderson, for whose arrest a large reward was offered by the Governor of Virginia, followed him. The wife of John Brown, on her way from North Elba, N. Y., his old home, to visit him in jail, remained in Philadelphia a week. It was desired that an escort of two gentlemen should be procured for her. It was difficult to find any one who would undertake the mission, which was regarded not only as unpopular, but as extremely dangerous, in view or the vengeful state of public feeling in Virginia. An appeal was made to Hector Tyndale, who afterward became in the Civil War a brevet major general of volunteers. He and J. Miller McKim and the latter's wife accompanied Mrs. Brown.
Tyndale, whose character was of the genuine heroic mold, was not, like McKim, especially identified with the anti-slavery cause. General St. Clair A. Mulholland, who, with many others, treasures his memory with the utmost reverence, thus spoke of this chivalrous act a short time ago:
"It subjected Tyndale for the time to a good deal of opposition in Philadelphia. Some of those who had called themselves his friends refused to speak to him on his return, and for years afterward. He was a young man, with his whole future before him. It was innate nobility and courage which made him accept that charge. Mrs. Brown had obtained an order from Governor Wise for the delivery of John Brown's body to her after the execution. But threats had been made to subject his body to great indignity and to substitute another for it in the coffin. Hector Tyndale was determined that the body should be identified before it was accepted by the widow. He insisted upon this, in the face of the most awful threats of a Virginia mob, and stood firm and unyielding upon his right as the representative of Mrs. Brown. This attitude won the admiration even of some of the fire-eaters, and one of them at last whispered in his ear that there were men there who would stand by him. He gained his point, the coffin was opened in his presence at Harper's Ferry, and he made sure that it was John Brown's body which he brought to Philadelphia.
"The public meeting that was held in National Hall by the Abolitionists at noon on the day when John Brown was hanged,"
[Drawing with caption: "THE ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY IN A DRY GOODS CASE OF HENRY 'BOX' BROWN."]
continued General Mulholland, "was a stormy one. James Mott, Lucretia Mott's husband, called it to order. Rev. Dr. Furness, father of Horace Howard Furness, made the prayer. During the proceedings hisses and applause alternated. There were cheers for Governor Wise, for Virginia and the United States, and groans for John Brown, Lucretia Mott, Mary Grew, Robert Purvis and Theodore Tilton made the addresses. When it was thought that John Brown was already hanging on the gallows at Charlestown. Theodore Tilton paused in his speech and said with awful solemnity:
"'It is the hour at which the gate of Heaven has been opened and a new spirit has entered in.'
"Under guard of the police many colored people held a 'sympathy prayer meeting'
[Photograph with caption: "GENERAL HECTOR TYNDALE. Who Escorted John Brown's Body to Philadelphia."]
that night in Shiloh Church, On Clifton street, below South.
"When John Brown's body arrived at the old railway station at Prime and Broad streets, Mayor Henry would not allow it to remain in the city, for fear that conflicting popular feeling would cause bloodshed. A great crowd was around the station. A reception committee of negroes stood in front of it, dressed in deepest mourning. Mrs. John Brown, accompanied by Hector Tyndale, after leaving the railway train walked quietly and unnoticed through the crowd, got into an Eleventh street car and went to a house of a friend. The Mayor made sure, by a trick, that the mob would not subject John Brown's body to outrage. A common box, used to hold hoisting blocks and tackling, was covered with a deer's skin and hoisted upon the shoulders of six policemen, who carried it out of the station and carefully put it into the a wagon, which the crowd followed as it was driven away. Then the plain pine coffin, which contained all that was left of John Brown, of Ossawatomie, was placed with a bundle of the pikes with which he had armed some of his men, at Harper's Ferry, upon another vehicle, and taken to the Walnut street wharf. J. Miller McKim went on with it to New York.
"Public feeling on the 'impending crisis' was about equally divided in Philadelphia until the threats of secession on the part of some of the Southern States had begun to be fulfilled. Lincoln was warmly received on his way to his inauguration. But the firing upon Sumter was needed to awaken the people thoroughly. Then the complete revulsion came. The test of loyalty was exacted by a mob, it is true, but a mob that represented in the last analysis true respectability and patriotism. Everybody of any account had to hand out his colors. The house of William B. Read and a newspaper office were attacked. Great union meetings were held, and the air was full of military preparation. When, however, General Louis Wagner organized the first negro regiment and wanted to parade it to show what a fine appearance it would make, the Mayor forbade him to march through Chestnut street, and he took it around by an obscure route, and across the Market street bridge to West Philadelphia."
MR. CLOTHIER'S REMINISCENCES.
The most exciting episode of all this ante-bellum period was unquestionably the effort on the part of a pro-slavery mob to break up a meeting at which George William Curtis delivered his powerful address on the burning question of the hour. The person most active in bringing Mr. Curtis to Philadelphia on this occasion was Isaac H. Clothier, now one of the most prominent merchants of the country, distinguished for his public spirit and philanthropy, but then a young man who had scarcely reached his majority.
Mr. Clothier was recently induced by the writer, after some persuasion, to tell the story of this remarkable episode in his own way, which is modesty itself. But as he talked Mr. Clothier grew warm with the generous enthusiasm of more than forty years ago, and the mere words themselves convey only a partial idea of the interest which he enkindled in his listener in the course of the narrative. He was seated at the time in his study a Ballytore, his beautiful chateau-residence at Wynnewood.
"I was deeply interested in the important questions of that time," said Mr. Clothier. "I had always a particular fondness for oratory. The great speakers then were on the side of the anti-slavery movement, and chief among them were Wendell Phillips and George William Curtis. In my thirst for listening to the discussion of great questions I used to attend lectures and meetings of all kinds. A young friend of mine and myself finally concluded that we would have a lecture course of our own in Philadelphia. It was the most direct way of gratifying our desire to hear the great anti-slavery speakers. This was in the summer of 1859, and we planned to have the course the next winter. A committee was formed, of which I was Chairman. The executive business of the enterprise was nearly all in my hands. You can imagine with what vim I, as an enthusiastic young man, entered into the campaign. I wrote to Henry Ward Beecher, Wendell Phillips, George William Curtis and others. I took journeys to see some of them. Mr. Curtis I visited at his residence on Staten Island, and Mr. Beecher at Peekskill. We found that George William Curtis and Wendell Phillips were the only speakers, among those whom we wanted, that we could engage. Our arrangements were made in August; one lecture was to be delivered by Wendell Phillips in November, and one by George William Curtis in December. There was then no particular anti-slavery excitement in this city, and we had no especial object in view in connection with that movement. But between that and the date of the first lecture John Brown's raid at Harper's Ferry took place. That was in October. Instantly the whole country was aflame. The lecture of Mr. Phillips was appointed for the 28th of November in National Hall, on Market street, between Twelfth and Thirteenth streets, on the south side. His subject was Toussaint L’Ouverture. We had no reason to anticipate any particular disorder untill a little before the time for the lecture. A notorious Alderman, McMullin by name, came to the hall with a crowd of roughs prepared to break up the meeting by force. But Mr. Phillips's wonderful eloquence overcame them. They were charmed with it, and sat as if spellbound until the end. Not a hostile word or sound did they utter, and the affair was most successful.
MOB VIOLENCE THREATENED.
"The next occasion, however, was very different. The date of George William Curtis's address was two weeks and a half later, the 15th of December, 1859, or a little less than forty-three years ago. John Brown had been hanged on the 2d of December, and the Abolitionists had held what I have always thought was a most unwise meeting at National Hall, at noon of that day. It was a very lively meeting, and came near being broken up. Our lecture by George William Curtis was on 'The Present Aspect of the Slavery Question.' It was powerful, but there was nothing fiery about it; and the subject and date, you must remember, had been fixed in the previous August. When the time arrived the whole city was in a turmoil. We tried to get two men of some prominence to introduce Mr. Curtis to the audience, but they refused. Judge William D. Kelley ('Pig Iron' Kelley), however, accepted the proposal with alacrity. He was perfectly fearless, and he enjoyed doing things that were a brave vindication of principle.
"That day, the 15th of December, was one of the most exciting I have ever seen. Alexander Henry was Mayor of the city. It was evident that there was going to be a riot. That morning a number of people came to see me, as the only person accessible to them who had the right to put the meeting off. I went to the Mayor. He said that it was his duty to maintain free speech, but that it was a very dangerous time. He thought that lives might be saved by putting the meeting off. But I felt that we had no right to do that. It would be pandering to the passions of the mob and a denial of free speech. Of course, in all this I had the advice of older persons, who confirmed me in my views. Mayor Henry made a personal appeal to me for a postponement. Prominent citizens were urgent in the same sense. Eli K. Price, W. Heyward Drayton and others were there. A committee came and asked whether something could not be done to avert the danger. They were afraid that blood would be shed. They besought the Mayor to stop the meeting. He said that he could not do that; but he would protect us. I went from him to the house of Rev. Dr. William H. Furness, on Pine street, where, in the meantime, Mr. Curtis had arrived. He had not heard anything as yet of the impending trouble. I told him that there was great danger. While I was talking a gentleman rang the door bell. He was a very estimable citizen. He said that he had just come from the office of the Mayor, to whom he had made a personal appeal to prevent the meeting, for fear that there would be bloodshed; and now he had come to make another personal appeal, with the same object, to Mr. Curtis. Mr. Curtis asked me what I had to say in the matter, as I represented those who had wished him to come here to lecture, and to whom he was responsible. I told him that I certainly did not want him to go to that hall, without knowing what he was doing. While I regretted that we were confronted with this danger, I saw no way out of it except to face it without shrinking. Dr. Furness said: 'If it costs the lives of all of us we ought to go on.' Mr. Curtis acquiesced, and so it was decided.
600 POLICE ON GUARD.
"Quite a party of us left Dr. Furness's house together a little before the time for the lecture. We walked from Pine street up Thirteenth, and went into National Hall from the little street in the rear. There was a terrible noise in Market street and a great crowd. Mayor Henry had 600 armed policemen posted in front of the hall and within it. A passageway was kept clear for people who wished to enter. They came in great numbers. It was surprising, the pluck they displayed. Nowadays I would be afraid to go to such a meeting. After entering by the back way we sat for a while in a little room behind the platform. Chief of Police Ruggles was there, and he took me downstairs and showed me the array of police. It looked to me more like war than anything I had yet seen. Every policeman had a loaded revolver. I felt the greatest confidence in the outcome. I felt that free speech would be vindicated. Pretty soon we marched in upon the platform. The sight was something I can never forget. The Mayor had ordered that the Anti-Slavery Fair, which was being held in Concert Hall, on Chestnut street, should be closed for the evening, in order that all the available police not already on guard could be kept in readiness for service at National Hall, if needed. This order also swelled our audience. Among the noted persons present were James and Lucretia Mott, Mary Grew, Charles Wise, Henry C. Davis, Rev. William H. Furness. D. D., and Mrs. Furness, Robert Purvis, Dr. John D. Griscom and Mrs. Griscom, Clement M. Biddle, Edward M. Davis, Caleb Clothier, Daniel Neall, Warner Justice and his wife, Theodore Justice, Abby Kimber, Sarah Pugh, William Still, James Miller McKim and George A. Coffey, District Attorney.
"George William Curtis had walked to the hall, with Mrs. William H. Furness leaning on his arm. A self-constituted bodyguard of young men kept close to him all the way and throughout the meeting. Many have since become prominent in public affairs. Those whom I remember were General William J. Palmer, since President of the Denver and Rio Grande Railway Company; Clement A. Griscom, James C. Parrish, William W. Justice, Edmund Lewis, Frank L. Neall, Henry C. Davis and the Steel brothers, Edward T., William and Henry M.
"Other persons than the police were prepared to give an account of themselves if free speech had been seriously retarded or the lives of law abiding citizens had been assailed. Mr. Coffey, the District Attorney, sat on the platform with a loaded revolver in his pocket. I remember his saying on that day: 'There will be hundreds of armed men in the streets to-night, ready to back the posse comitatus on behalf of free speech.' Judge Kelley had a billy, or small cudgel, up his sleeve. It is now in my possession.
A MOST EXCITING HOUR.
"In introducing Mr. Curtis, Judge Kelley gave his listeners to understand that free speech would be vindicated, and that the Orator of the evening would be protected. He further said (the words are securely graven in my memory):
'It is my privilege to introduce to you my friend, George William Curtis, who is here this evening in pursuance of an engagement made more than three months ago, to present to you his views--the views of an accomplished scholar, a polished gentleman and, withal, a great hearted lover of his race and kind--upon the subject which God is pressing closer and closer upon us every day of our lives--the great question of slavery.'
"Mr. Curtis did not speak as long as he would have done, perhaps, if disorder had not been so rampant. His lecture lasted a little less than an hour. It was an hour of menace, noise and confusion. The building would have been torn inside out and burned to the ground if it had not been for the police. The mob on Market street made several charges upon the entrance, but the police charged them in turn and kept them out. Brickbats were thrown through the side windows of the hall. A bottle of vitriol was also thrown, and the sight of one person was destroyed by its contents. The mob had its delegates in the auditorium, too. Two or three attempts were made to stop the lecture. Rough looking men jumped upon the benches and gave cheers for the Union, to drown the voice of the lecturer. The police rushed at them, seized them and carried them out through a doorway under the platform. Robert E. Randall, brother of Samuel J. Randall who became Speaker of the National House of
[Drawing with caption: "PASSMORE WILLIAMSON, Who Helped Many Slaves to Freedom."]
Representatives, was one of the ring leaders, and was arrested.
RIOTERS AS HOSTAGES.
"Underneath the hall was a wholesale flour store, into which freight cars were run for the purpose of unloading. The prisoners were taken down into this store and were locked up in an empty freight ear Their confederates in the auditorium and in the street were then informed that if the building was fired the prisoners would be sure to be burned to death. To show how tense was the suspense of those on the platform while the lecture was in progress I will recall a little incident. My associate in the management of the course of lectures, William J, Palmer, did not know Mr. Henry by sight. At one stage of the tumult, the Mayor appeared suddenly beside Mr. Curtis, as he stood near the edge of the platform, and made an appeal to the audience for order. Mr. Palmer leaned over to me and asked: 'Who is that man?' He afterwards told me that, supposing at first that Mayor Henry was an accomplice of the mob, he came very near seizing him from behind and pushing him off the platform.
"In spite of the menacing interruptions the lecture was delivered, and was heard, and free speech was vindicated."
Almost one year afterwards to a day, George William Curtis was again invited [Drawing and caption: "LUCRETIA MOTT. One of the Most Remarkable Anti-Slavery Orators."] to speak in Philadelphia. But Lincoln had meanwhile been elected President, the secession agitation in the South had reached its highest pitch, and the anti-slavery advocates in the North were held by many thousands to be directly responsible for the great troubles which threatened the nation. The condition of public sentiment in Philadelphia was more dangerous even than it had been immediately after the execution of John Brown. The Mayor was strongly opposed to the delivery of the lecture, and Mr. Andrews, the lessee of Concert Hall, refused to allow its use for that purpose.
In connection with the above reminiscences and as an instance of the whirligig of time, it may be interesting to observe that during the past week the Hon. Grover Cleveland, twice elected President by the Democratic party, presided at a meeting in Philadelphia held in behalf of an African industrial school, and was presented to the audience by the author of these reminiscences, Mr. Isaac H. Clothier.